“Ben, there’s more of them,” Sandy shouted and swerved again, this time reacting to a string of motorcycles merging onto the highway from a side road. The bikes had been customized like the Jeep, only they weren’t built for off-roading. An assortment of steel plates and scrap metal adorned the bikes in various configurations. This wasn’t the first time Ben had seen this type of thing, and these motorcycles were evidence it wouldn’t be the last, either.

  More of the campers joining the chase was the last thing Ben needed, but it wasn’t at all unexpected, and he was glad the kids had a head start. Due to their current high rate of speed, they left the bikers behind quickly for the time being, and Ben observed some of the drawn weapons getting holstered as the gang tried to catch up and join the fray.

  The distance between them and their pursuers gave Ben and Sandy a small buffer, but it wouldn’t last long. The Jeep and the bikers would close the gap soon, and Ben knew it was time for a different course of action. In addition to everything else working against them, maintaining this rate of speed on a road littered with occasional wrecks was asking for trouble. If the campers didn’t do them in, a collision with something sitting on the road would.

  “Slow down.” Ben eyed the Jeep through the SAW’s sights as it drew nearer.

  “What?” Sandy kept her foot on the gas pedal in spite of Ben’s instructions.

  “Slow down. We can’t outrun them.” Ben knew they had no chance of losing the bikes, but it was obvious the Jeep was going to be a problem, too.

  “Hang on.” Sandy let off the throttle, but only because she was trying to avoid a turned-over SUV that whizzed by on their left.

  Ben braced himself against the Blazer’s sudden movement and got back behind his weapon as soon as he could manage it. The Jeep narrowly avoided the rolled Suburban blocking half the highway while the bikes split and reformed like a school of startled fish.

  “Sandy, we have to slow down and deal with these guys here. We can’t outrun them.” Ben took the time to explain his reason for slowing down, and eventually, she backed off the throttle. “Just keep us on the road and avoid the wrecks. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  He focused on the Jeep leading their pursuers, pondering how many times this gang, nestled beneath the bridge, had terrorized unsuspecting travelers passing overhead. It was another instance of the morally bankrupt exploiting a dire situation—a narrative that seemed to echo across the nation.

  Rather than fear or anger, though, Ben was engulfed by a profound sense of disappointment. These armed opportunists stood as a grim testament to the depths humanity had plummeted. They were symptomatic of a society in decay, where the underbelly seemed to triumph, lurking in the shadows and preying on the vulnerable.

  Discouragement fell over Ben like a heavy shroud, threatening to smother him. It wasn’t solely about this particular confrontation; it was the sobering realization of society’s descent into darkness. The bandits beneath the bridge epitomized a world unraveling, where desperation and moral compromise were the currency of value.

  In the face of this bleak reality, Ben found himself uncharacteristically devoid of fear or rage. It was a weariness born of witnessing this cycle repeat itself endlessly. The script remained unchanged; only the players varied. And for a fleeting moment, Ben felt sorry for them.

  The gang’s pursuit, a symptom of their own depravity, served as a blatant reminder of the fragility of societal norms. In a world where survival often trumped ethics, the line between right and wrong blurred into shades of gray.

  Once the modified CJ-7 had closed the distance to within a couple hundred yards, Ben noticed a man stand up precariously behind the Jeep’s roll bar. The passenger produced a long, sleek black rifle with an oversized, high-powered scope, which he attempted to aim at the Blazer among the Jeep’s course corrections as it dodged hazards on the road.

  Ben was holding out until the last second before firing on their pursuers. The closer they were, the better the chance he’d do some real damage, although the appearance of the rifle and high-powered scope was a reason to reconsider his strategy. But the CJ-7 was armored with a collection of rusty steel plates that looked like they were welded on as an afterthought. Ben wasn’t sure how thick the Jeep’s armor was and questioned whether he’d be able to punch through the protective panels at this range with 5.56 rounds. The reinforced piece of plating attached behind the CJ’s push bar did an excellent job of protecting the radiator and engine bay, so disabling the vehicle permanently was probably out of the question. But that might not be necessary.

  He just needed to end the chase, not teach lessons or find retribution. No unforgivable wrongs had been committed yet by these bridge bandits, at least not to Ben and his crew. Not unless being denied access to the water they so desperately needed could be considered such an offense. And maybe if the conditions were different, he would have felt otherwise. Had he been traversing the country alone, many of these encounters would have gone down much differently. Then again, he might also be dead by now. But Ben had no interest in proving a point this afternoon or playing the hero by saving future travelers from these low-life bottom dwellers who most appropriately lived in the shadows of a bridge.

  They were officially in Kansas now, and that was a game-changer as far as Ben was concerned, more so than he thought it would be when it came to his outlook on their situation. The scant few miles that had put them into a whole new state were meager on their own, but it felt like they’d crossed over into a whole new world of possibilities, one where the future looked brighter than it had in a long time.

  He’d convinced himself before that they were actually going to make it home in one piece because he had to, but for the first time, he truly believed it was going to happen. He’d needed to persuade himself that their chances were good earlier in the trip in order to keep going, but he could give the notion credibility now because it was genuinely happening.

  Uncertain whether it was the shifting circumstances or an evolution within himself, Ben found solace in the singular focus consuming his thoughts at this moment: bringing his children, Sandy, and her daughter back home. His only desired outcome to this encounter was to get on with their lives, locate water, and go home. And that was precisely what he intended to make happen.

  17

  “Goin’ hot!” Ben shouted the warning for Sandy’s benefit in the hope that she’d avoid being startled and wouldn’t steer the Blazer erratically when he opened fire on the CJ.

  It was going to be challenging enough to get rounds on the target with the swerving already necessary to avoid obstacles on the road. The narrow slit in the plated windshield of the Jeep, meant to allow the driver a clear view of the road, would be nearly impossible to hit accurately with this weapon under these conditions. Ben questioned his decision to use the light machine gun for a split second, thinking he’d be better off with his scoped rifle, but there were too many of the gang to contend with. And if he waited any longer, the man positioned over the roll bar would surely take a shot any second now once he got lined up.

  Pap pap pap pap… pap pap pap… pap pap pap pap pap.

  Ben laid into the modified CJ-7 with a hail of rounds from the SAW’s ammunition belt, causing a string of sparks to flash off the chasing vehicle’s steel-plated windscreen. Judging by how the vehicle capriciously lurched to the left, then corrected course after the barrage of gunfire, he surmised that at least a few of the rounds had made it into the Jeep’s cabin.

  The burst hadn’t inflicted the damage he’d hoped for, but it certainly had his pursuers’ attention, and the Jeep fell off several yards to regroup. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Had the gang realized that they weren’t dealing with their everyday, run-of-the-mill traveler and decided to end the chase?

  Not a chance. Another puff of smoke from the Jeep and the back end squatted, launching the CJ forward at an even higher rate of speed than before, which made it perfectly clear that the gang was far from done harassing them. At least the bikers seemed content to hang back for the time being and let their friends in the CJ-7 do the heavy lifting for now. And that was more than okay with Ben because he had his hands full.

  The driver of the Jeep knew what he was doing and made sure to stay directly behind the Blazer, limiting exposure of the CJ’s less armored sides. The oversized off-road tires were shrouded by extended fender flares that looked to be made from the same material that covered the windshield and front grill. It was impossible to get a clear shot at this angle, and any rounds spent trying to take out the tires would be wasted, but Ben noticed a flaw in the Jeep’s plan to remain untouchable.

  About to open fire again, Ben saw the man with the scoped rifle react to the weapon’s kick. A fraction of a second later, a metallic clank rang out like a bell, and he knew they’d been hit. Fortunately, the steel of the old Chevy’s tailgate took the brunt of the shot, and as far as he could tell, the bullet hadn’t caused any real damage.

  “What was that?” Sandy shouted over the Blazer’s engine and thunderous exhaust note.

  “Don’t worry about it. Just keep driving,” Ben replied, then answered the shooter.

  Pap pap pap… pap pap pap… pap pap pap pap pap.

  But the man saw it coming and dropped below the roll bar, taking cover behind the armored windscreen as another burst from the light machine gun peppered the CJ with sparks once again. This time, Ben was prepared to capitalize on the driver’s reaction. And just as he predicted, the CJ-7 jerked to the right, crossing into the other lane and opening up its left flank for a moment. Ben seized the small window of opportunity and tore into the green Jeep with everything he had. Throwing his full weight behind the SAW in an attempt to keep the weapon from walking off target, he rattled through several dozen rounds without pause, maxing out the cyclical rate of the light machine gun.

  The Jeep careened back to center, the top-heavy vehicle heaving against the driver’s will as it struggled to negotiate the maneuver with the added weight of the welded-on armor. But not before Ben got a piece of the front wheel, causing the tire to implode and shred itself to pieces on the rim. Chunks of black rubber flew in every direction. The Jeep continued onward for a few seconds, impossibly unaffected by the damage, until it finally succumbed to the catastrophic loss of its left front tire. Momentum finally gave way to gravity, triggering a chain of events that drove the Jeep’s nose into the pavement. The exaggerated push bar dug into the blacktop, sending curls of asphalt to the side like freshly plowed earth.

  Time stopped, or so it seemed as Ben watched the scene unfold. The front of the CJ crumpled in on itself while the back end continued to overtake the vehicle, catapulting up and over the front end, launching the man with the scoped rifle out of the back seat and into the air. The entire Jeep went airborne a split second later, giving Ben a clear view of the open top and interior of the vehicle.

  Besides the gunman and the driver, there was a third man in the passenger seat. His body appeared bloody and lifeless, maybe from Ben’s first attempt with the SAW. If the passenger was already dead, he was the lucky one. The first man who’d been shooting at them from the roll bar landed hard, skidding across the pavement until his body stopped abruptly, slamming into the guardrail, where his limbs wrapped around a metal stanchion with incredible force.

  The driver clung to the Jeep, held in place by his seat belt, but the situation offered no reprieve. Trapped in what must have felt like a never-ending hell of twisting metal and bone-jarring G-forces, the driver found himself in a blender of flying parts and escaping liquids as the Jeep reduced itself to an assortment of scrap scattered across the highway.

  For a moment, Sandy neglected her role as navigator, fully pivoting in her seat to witness the spectacle unfolding behind them. The violent scene gradually settled, with all the scattered parts and pieces finding their final resting places. The driver’s lifeless form hung suspended over the contorted chassis, which now bore little resemblance to a Jeep, just as the contorted body seemed disconnected from any semblance of humanity.

  There was no time to celebrate the Jeep’s demise, however. There were still half a dozen bikes and their armed riders to deal with. Ben figured he had about a good hundred rounds left in the M249’s box magazine, and while that seemed like a lot, divided among six moving targets, it would spend fast.

  “Don’t stop. Keep going.” Ben urged Sandy to resume giving the road ahead and their escape her full attention. She’d slowed the Blazer considerably to gawk at the deadly spectacle. “It’s not over yet.”

  Sandy’s eyes grew wide with terror as if she’d forgotten for a moment that they were on the wrong end of a high-speed pursuit. The Chevy lurched forward as she got back on the throttle and pulled away from the wrecked Jeep. The drivers of the bikes hesitated momentarily, drifting between lanes as if they were undecided about the next course of action. Maybe their leader was in the Jeep, although that didn’t necessarily mean the chase was over or the rest of the gang would give up. A decapitated snake could still bite.

  “Dad, come in. The road’s blocked. We can’t get through this way. We’re coming back your way. Over.”

  Ben heard his son’s frantic voice over the radio, the message sending a chill up his spine. If Joel was making the decision to turn around when he knew what was waiting for him back in this direction, then the road must truly be impassable.

  Ahead, a secondary bridge crossed the remaining marshlands skirting the river. It must have been blocked by a wreck, or maybe a roadblock had been put in place by the pursuing deviants. It wouldn’t be the first time Ben had seen this tactic employed. He hesitated, his instincts urging him to radio his son and advise him against retracing his steps. However, he held back.

  “Copy that. Over,” Ben finally answered.

  What alternatives did they really have? Confronting the bikers head-on out here on the open road seemed like a more survivable option than being cornered with no way out.

  “What do we do?” Sandy let off the gas, allowing the Blazer to coast while she waited for instructions.

  “Stop the truck, but leave me facing the bikes.” Ben wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of this predicament, but they couldn’t afford to give up any more ground if the road ahead was impassable.

  They’d have to stand their ground and fight, something he wished he’d realized earlier when they had the upper hand from high above the camp on the bridge. The concrete guardrail would have made for great cover and a much safer place from which to confront the encampment of killers. He could have picked off several with his scoped rifle. But there was no sense in dwelling on that regret now.

  Ben turned to look ahead as Sandy brought the Blazer to a stop. He spotted the Jeep in the distance through undulating waves of heat escaping off the blacktop. Looking to the highway’s shoulder, Ben quickly determined there was no cover for them there, just a few feet of waist-high weeds ending against a rusty section of guardrail.

  To his right, Ben scanned the median for options but found nothing, just more overgrown vegetation with a bald strip running through the middle, indicating the presence of another barrier of some sort that separated one side of the highway from the other. He’d wanted to avoid being pinned against a wall, but this wasn’t looking much better as the bikers continued their malevolent but tentative advance. Ben hated to concede what he’d so diligently tried to avoid, but they were trapped.

  18

  “Ben?” Sandy stared at him, her eyes bulging with fear.

  “I’m thinking.” Ben’s answer was curt, but this was no time to panic, and her trepidation about the approaching bikers wasn’t helping him think.

  “Come in. I want you guys to pull in behind that overturned truck and get ready to fight. Over.” Ben noticed the overturned box truck earlier when he saw the Jeep returning. It wasn’t his first choice at the time, but in consideration of the cover available to them, it was the only viable option.

  “Head for the truck and park behind it. It’s our best chance.” Ben turned, locking eyes with a distraught Sandy. “We’ll be all right. Just get us to the truck.”

  Sandy turned in her seat to face the road ahead and stomped on the throttle, spinning the rear wheels and heading for the remnants of the box truck. The totaled delivery vehicle had been reduced to nothing more than a skeleton of metal framework, the chassis brought to a crumpled stop against the guardrail. The fire-consumed remnants of a compact sedan sat wedged between the two, and it was most likely the cause of the initial accident.

  The truck’s body had all but disintegrated in the fire; only the steel frame of the cargo box remained, sticking up like ribs on a corpse. But the cab was somewhat intact, and so was the drivetrain, providing some protection for the Blazer and Jeep down low along the ground. It wasn’t much in the way of cover, but they’d have to make the best of it. At the very least, he hoped it would prevent the Blazer or the Jeep from taking a bullet to the tires while giving him and the others a place to fight from.

  It didn’t take long for Sandy to reach the scorched remains of the box truck, and as she pulled around to the far side, Ben kept an eye on the bikers. A few seconds later, Allie swung the Scrambler in behind them, screeching to a halt.

  “Everybody out. Emma, take the dogs into the tall grass and stay low.” Ben was about to remind his daughter to take her weapon, but he saw that was unnecessary.

  “Where do you want us?” Joel jumped from the passenger seat, wielding his AR-15, with the Kel-Tec 12-gauge strapped to his back. Allie was at his side and ready as well, with her AR and a sidearm on her hip.

  “How bad is the road?” Ben wanted to make sure they had no other choice but to stay and fight before fully committing.